


Smallpox

by lieutenant_hatshepsut



Category: Tyranny (Video Game)
Genre: Dark Fantasy, F/M, Not really a pairing story, Scarlet Horus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 21:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14602317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lieutenant_hatshepsut/pseuds/lieutenant_hatshepsut
Summary: "You get a promotion," the Fifth Eye whispered.





	Smallpox

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Paint it black](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10036379) by [lieutenant_hatshepsut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lieutenant_hatshepsut/pseuds/lieutenant_hatshepsut). 



> Sorry, english is not my native language. I wish you guys could read it in Russian! :D
> 
> thanks Lalli for beta <3

Smallpox was awakened by his own body - it startled when realized it urgently needed to puke. Smallpox took this desire close to the heart. He even managed to crawl to the exit from the tent and comfortably spread out on the belly. Vomiting was dry, long and hard, but when he finished puking, Smallpox wiped off, washed off the taste of the bile with warm water and felt like he was born again.

After a night raid, the band was having a long sleep. Only Corps-eater and the Stinger were throwing dice without much interest. Smallpox sat down beside them, threw an empty box under his ass and asked:

"What are the stakes, folks?"

"A nookie," muttered the Stinger. "Against his boots."

"His boots are peace of shit," Smallpox noticed, because he was a fair guy - and was proud about it.

Corps-eater laughed hoarsely.

"She has no boobs and lost half of her teeth too, so it's a fair deal."

"Half is enough to bite you," snarled the Stinger.

Smallpox yawned widely. He loved the morning camp - quiet and sleepy. The earth trembled, sometimes twitched like a sick dog, but Smallpox get used to not notice.

The Fifth Eye leaned out from behind the tents, like a worm of an apple. As if the bastard felt that Smallpox was enjoing himself and it was time to spoil his life a little.

"Hey, you!" The Fifth Eye yelped, chuckling hysterically. "Smallpox! I need you to come here"

Smallpox spat at his feet and stand up from the box with a groan. The Stinger and Corps-eater looked on his back - and then probably returned to the game again. Smallpox went to the Fifth Eye, winding between tents - most of them were quiet, but from some he was hearing moaning. Fifth Eye was almost dancing on the spot. He waved his hand, ordering Smallpox to follow him.

"What the fuck do you want?" growled Smallpox. "To hold your dick while you pee?"

The Fifth Eye giggled.

Soon Smallpox smelled the stench of dead rebels, whose bodies, planted on peaks, almost decomposed in the heat under the sun. Smallpox shivered uncomfortably, realizing that they were going to the tent which belongs to the Voices of Nerat. Usually it was a one-way road.

"Wait here," the Fifth Eye commanded.

He disappeared inside the tent, but leaved a gap in the canopy, and Smallpox, aware that he is not going to come back, quickly looked inside.

He saw a bint, laying on the camp bed. Alive and clean. She was sleeping peacefully with her arm under a cheek, and a beautiful white knee come into view from the blanket.

The Fifth Eye approached the table which was littered by papers, and took several scrolls - rolled up and sealed. Smallpox managed to get away from the entrance quickly enough, but he had noticed - something looked like rope, woven from the green smoke was wrapped around the bint's ankle.

"Take it," said the Fifth Eye, and threw the bag with the emblem of the Scarlet Chorus into Smallpox's hands. "You will deliver it."

Smallpox picked the bag up. In his head some thoughts jumped on others, mingled in mess.

"I'm not here to deliver some bloody papers," Smallpox said slowly. "I was born a Blood Chanter and Blood Chanter I'll die."

The Fifth Eye began to giggle hysterically, choked on air and coughed.

"You are now the Hands of the Voices," he said solemnly and immediately began to giggle again. "But don't you get handsy"

He patted on the Smallpox's shoulder, obviously pleased with his dumb joke.

"And where are the previous one?" Smallpox asked for no reason, because he certainly wasn't care.

"Dead," the Fifth Eye said with unexpected calmness.

Some indistinct sound came from inside of the tent. The Fifth Eye waited, swaying from the toe to the heel and Smallpox didn't have anything else to do but wait.

Then the canopy was firmly discarded and the clean bint met Smallpox's eyes - and then she looked aside indifferently.

"Good morning, my beloved Fatebinder," almost sang the Fifth Eye.

"Do you sleep at all?" - asked the bint-fatebinder.

The Fifth Eye shook with silent laughter.

"Who need eyes if they don't look anywhere" he asked. "Go, dear Fatebinder. You wouldn't like what will happen next"

The bint shrugged her shoulders. She looked at the Fifth Eye with the same expression a farmer looks at a lame horse, like she wanted to finish his suffering, but pityed him too much. She nodded with no words.

The Fifth Eye removed the canopy for Smallpox. A good smell came from the inside of the tent - of fruits or oils or sings aristocrats's praises. A green fog swirled around the table, gradually growing an armor, taking a familiar form.

"You get a promotion," the Fifth Eye whispered.

Smallpox stepped forward, and the canopy fell behind him.


End file.
